


the spectacularly (ab)normal life of a uni student

by honeyuta



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Humor, Loss of Virginity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 13:43:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16975671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyuta/pseuds/honeyuta
Summary: “My life is so messed up.”“Tragic.”“I am such a pathetic excuse of a human being.”“Truly devastating.”“I lost my virginity to a guy who hates me.”Ten sips from his overly-sweet latte, and it is infuriating how unperturbed he is by it all. “So?”“So?! What do you mean ‘so?’” Yuta shrieks, ignoring the annoyed looks from the other customers being thrown their way. “It’s my first week of university–I shouldn’t have someone who hates me in the first place and I certainly shouldn’t have presented my virginity to him on a silver platter like I did–you honestly don’t see how that’s really messed up?”Ten shrugs. “There’s a first for everything.” He leans forward on his elbows then, suddenly very invested in the matter. “Now for the important questions. Did he eat you out?”“Ten!”Alternatively, Yuta learns that university is filled with nosy friends, annoyingly good-looking boys and a shit ton of drama.





	the spectacularly (ab)normal life of a uni student

**Author's Note:**

> warning: this is not beta-read. proceed with caution. 
> 
> apart from that, enjoy!

“Do you want to go to a party with me this weekend?”

 

Yuta looks up from his Cognitive Psychology textbook on hearing Ten’s question. 

 

“A party?” he repeats, and Ten lets out the faintest of sighs.

 

“Yes, Yu, _a party,_ ” he snickers at the way Yuta’s nose scrunches up in distaste at the prospect of socialising, but doesn’t say anything further, knowing fully that Yuta would take at least a half hour to answer the question and that Ten would have forgotten what he’d asked by then. It happens each time.

 

But to his utter surprise, Yuta turns back to his book without sparing him a second glance.

 

“No.”

 

Ten blinks, taken aback by his best friend’s straightforwardness. He blinks again to confirm that he was _actually_ rejected by the usually soft-spoken Yuta Nakamoto, and sure enough, when he opens his eyes, he is still sitting on the grass outside the Cultural Anthropology building, and sure enough, Yuta is sitting in front of him, his thick mop of black hair messy as always and his glasses slipping off his nose as he stares at his textbook with great concentration.

 

“Are you sure?” he presses, still sort of dazed, and this time Yuta doesn’t even look up from his book when he replies.

 

“I’m sure.”

 

It ends at that.

 

Except, it doesn’t.

 

“Yuta.”

 

Yuta hums, an eyebrow quirking up slightly, but he _still_ doesn’t look up, and Ten huffs.

 

“ _Hyung.”_

 

Yuta looks at him then, slightly annoyed, breathing out a “What is it, Ten?”

 

“You really don’t want to go?” he tries, persistent.

 

Yuta sighs, bookmarking the page he was reading and keeping his book to the side in defeat. He pushes his glasses up to sit better on his nose and looks at the younger through the lenses exasperatedly. “I really don’t want to go.”

 

“But _why_?” the Thai whines, determined on having his way.

 

“Why?” Yuta parrots, tilting his head to the side in thought.

 

Why _doesn’t_ he want to go?

 

A _party..._

 

A social gathering of invited guests, typically involving eating, drinking, and entertainment.

 

At least that’s how Google puts it. Of course, they make it sound far more pleasant than it is in reality. You see, what they had forgotten to add is that only two things seem to work in the bodies of these ‘invited guests’ at these ‘social gatherings,’ those two things being:

 

(a) their sweat glands, and

(b) their sex drive

 

which inevitably leads to awkward situations where you’re stuck on a dance floor in the middle of a sea of sweaty bodies grinding against each other like their lives depended on it, with no way out. For a fleeting moment, Yuta considers sending an email to Google, something along the lines of:

 

_Hi, yes, my name is Nakamoto Yuta, and I would like to suggest that some additions be made to your definition of the term ‘party,’ yes. A warning, perhaps, that would go a little something like this:_

 

 **_Warning!_ ** _These social gatherings contain highly dangerous apes that have a thing for touching you without your consent! You_ **_will_ ** _be groped against your will!_

 

_Yes, that would be all for now._

 

_I look forward to hearing back from your team!_

 

_Sincerely,_

 

_Nakamoto Yuta,_

 

_Someone who has never been to a party before but knows enough about them because of a friend._

 

“That’s a silly way to put it, hyung,” Ten comments and Yuta shoots him a _look_ that has him rephrasing his answer. “Okay, maybe it’s just a tad bit true, but at least there’s the food and the drinks to make up for it. Plus, there are hot guys. _Lots of them._ A dream come true for a twink like you, eh?” Yuta makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Come on, for once in your life, do something other than homework and reading on a weekend?”

 

Yuta opens his mouth to protest but is cut off by the bells going off loudly in each building, and he purses his lips in resignation. “I’ll think about it, okay?” he acquiesces, voice soft and apologetic. He gathers up his books and smiles lightly at his friend. “Right now though, I have a trip to make to the other side of campus. Why is the Psych building so far…”

 

He turns around and looks over his shoulder once to regard Ten with a dazzling smile and a twinkle in his eyes. “Good luck, loser. Try not to make a fool out of yourself on the first day, yeah?”

 

Ten grins at him. “Right back at ya, asshole.”

 

 

On reaching his class after a ten minute walk, however, Yuta is not in as good a mood as he was when he started.

 

If you ask him, it totally, absolutely, one hundred percent was _not_ his fault.

 

The frat boy he just met does not seem to think the same.

 

Yuta has never seen a frat boy before. According to Urban Dictionary, they are the physical embodiment of all things evil in the world, to sum it up.

 

Yuta does not trust the Internet too much, so he has pitied these so called _frat boys_ for being on the receiving end of such harsh judgment ever since he looked it up. How bad could they _actually_ be, right?

 

_Wrong._

 

Jung Jaehyun is truly the physical embodiment of all things evil in the world.

 

Here’s how it happened:

 

Yuta weaves his way through the forming crowd of students all rushing to reach their classes on time, his steps light and graceful. The way he carries himself betrays the nervousness churning in his stomach and the erratic beating of his heart, but hey, first impressions are everything, aren’t they?  

 

Unfortunately, Jung Jaehyun’s first impression of him doesn’t seem to be too _impressive,_ if the way he’s glaring at Yuta with annoyance is anything to go by.

 

“I–I’m sorry!” Yuta stutters, cheeks red in embarrassment as he leans down to retrieve his textbook from the ground. The boy in front of him has his bag hanging securely from his shoulder, so Yuta doesn’t understand what the menacing look in his eyes is supposed to mean. Choosing to pay no mind to it, he wraps both his arms around his book and glances nervously at the boy through his glasses. “I should have been watching where I was going–”

 

“That’s right, you should have been.”

 

Yuta is taken aback by the coldness in his voice, and his expression hardens on processing the words. He stares at the boy in disbelief before regaining enough of his senses to manage a hard, “I’m sorry?”

 

“You should be,” the brunet snarls, bumping Yuta’s shoulder with his own deliberately when he pushes past him. “The name’s Jung Jaehyun, by the way,” he adds over his shoulder, and Yuta looks at him as if he has grown a second head. Why on _earth_ would he want to know his name? “For future reference,” Jung Jaehyun smirks–a smirk oozing with infuriating confidence–as if having read his mind. “Just so you can put a face to the name you’ll be hearing all the time. Try to make it to class in one piece, alright, four eyes?”

 

By the time he’s done talking, the tips of Yuta’s ears are a bright red–not from embarrassment this time, but from frustration. Before he can give the kid a piece of his mind, however, he is nowhere to be seen. Yuta stands there dumbly for a moment before taking off to his class when he realizes that he was no more time to waste.

 

He reaches his classroom just fine, _thank you very much,_ climbs the steps to one of the middle rows and drops his books onto a free space, muttering furiously to himself still.

 

The professor comes in then, and after a brief introduction, starts with a chapter that Yuta has already read.

 

This is _not_ how he expected his first day of university to go.

 

 

“Frat boy,” is the first thing Ten says when Yuta relays the morning’s events to him, and Yuta does not even try to disagree this time. Frat boy indeed.

 

“Have you met this Jung Jaehyun?” Yuta peers up at Ten from where he’s resting his head on his thigh and Ten looks down at him.

 

“No, but I have heard of him,” he replies, and Yuta huffs.

 

“ _How_? We’ve not even been here a week and you probably know every existing secret passage on campus,” he says in disbelief.

 

“Actually–”

 

“ _Don’t_ confirm that,” Yuta grimaces and Ten simply chuckles at his antics. The older repositions himself so that his neck doesn’t hurt from looking up at Ten and Ten’s hand comes up to thread through his messy hair. Yuta’s eyes eventually fall shut from the calming gesture and he sighs contentedly.

 

“Ten?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Do you think uni’s going to be bad?”

 

A brief silence fills the air in the room. It isn’t awkward in the least because silences with Ten are never awkward, and Yuta almost falls asleep in that brief moment.

 

“We’ll survive,” Yuta doesn’t have to look to know that Ten has a shit-eating grin on his face.

 

 

The next day, however, Yuta doubts just how much promise that sentence holds when both him and Ten wake up on the couch where they had fallen asleep last night with their limbs tangled and Yuta half on top of the Thai.

 

Now, that wouldn’t be have been a problem, if the digital clock on the coffee table ( _how did it even get there_ ) hadn’t been glaring back at them with an ominous _8:11_ _AM_ blinking obnoxiously in all of its bright red glory. Both of them had their first classes at eight.

 

The morning passed by somewhat like that, and as the hours ticked away and they reunited in their small apartment in the complex just across the street from the university at around four in the afternoon, neither of them were in their element.

 

“Are you sure about that surviving thing?” Yuta mumbles, slumping against the front of the sofa in an effort to make himself more comfortable on the floor. Ten groans in response from where he’s sprawled out on the couch.

 

“Is that a yes or a no?”

 

“It’s an _‘I don’t know anymore, please can I just go to sleep and never wake up again’._ ”

 

“That’s called dying, Ten.”

 

“ _‘I_ _don’t know anymore, please can I just go die’._ ”

 

“Better.”

 

Silence (sans Ten’s intermittent groaning) ensues after that and Yuta tries to think of something that would cheer the both of them up.

 

“Well,” he starts, and Ten puts a halt to his groaning to hear him out, “at least… we have the party this weekend?”

 

Ten shoots up from the couch so quickly that Yuta fears for a moment that he’d broken a bone somewhere, but he seems to be just fine as he drops to the floor next to Yuta and turns him around forcefully by the shoulders.

 

“You’re coming?” he asks, eyes sparkling with joy, and even if it is the last thing Yuta wants to be doing on a Friday night, he finds it impossible to say no at that moment.

 

He rolls his eyes instead, the beginnings of a smile showing on his lips. “Just this once.”

 

Ten squeals like a teenager who just got a love letter and hugs Yuta so tightly that he topples backwards just from the sheer force of it, and Yuta huffs from having to handle Ten’s weight on top of him, but the pure joy on his face more than makes up for it.

 

“I can’t wait,” Ten whispers excitedly, his smile making his eyes crinkle up at the corners. “Your first _real_ party! I really can’t wait.”

 

Yuta grimaces slightly which eventually morphs into a weak smile. With a wary sigh, he mutters, “Neither can I…”

 

 

The week passes by far too quickly for Yuta’s liking, and on Friday evening, two hours before the party, Yuta finds himself sitting on Ten’s bed with Ten hovering over him like some sort of insect while he runs back and forth between the bed and the dressing table where he’s got all of his makeup supplies.

 

Needless to say, Yuta is _not_ enjoying this.

 

“This shirt is stuffy,” he complains grouchily for the nth time since Ten had wrangled it over his head. From somewhere in front of him, Ten hums dismissively as he carefully applies Yuta’s eyeliner.

 

“You’ve said that around five times now, come up with something new,” he pulls back to examine whether the liner has been applied uniformly or not, and nods in satisfaction on confirming that it is. He pats Yuta’s shoulder as a signal to open his eyes, which he does, blinking rapidly to take in his surroundings.

 

“Why am I wearing eyeliner anyway? You’ve agreed to let me wear my glasses, so what’s the point?” he inquires grumpily, pulling a face to relay his displeasure.

 

“You won’t be wearing them while making out now, will you?” Ten asks, unscrewing the cap of some red lipgloss.

 

Yuta gasps, “For your kind information, I will _not_ be making out with anyone. And even if I do, why can’t I keep my glasses on?”

 

Ten shrugs, taking Yuta’s chin into his grasp and lightly dabbing the red onto his lips. “I don’t know, they might get in the way,” he says, more absorbed in his task than in answering. “Purse your lips and rub them together.”

 

Yuta does wordlessly as he is told, and Ten pulls back to scan his face again. He smiles, seemingly satisfied, before reaching out to rearrange a few strands of hair.

 

Yuta grumbles moodily again, “These pants are stuffy. And way too tight.”

 

“You’re stuffy,” Ten clucks his tongue in annoyance and Yuta whines in protest. “And welcome to the world of leather, honey.”

 

Yuta mutters something under his breath and Ten, who seems to be engrossed in adding the last few touches to Yuta’s appearance, conveniently ignores his best friend’s complaints.

 

Yuta chooses to keep his mouth shut for the rest of this little dress-up game they seem to be playing while Ten cheerily hums the tune of some Sistar song under his breath.

 

“Aaand we’re done!” Yuta jumps at the sudden exclamation and peers up at Ten warily. “Stand up for me.”

 

Yuta does as he’s told and Ten looks him up and down, whistling softly once his gaze lands on Yuta’s face again. His signature grin finds its way to his lips, and warning bells go off in Yuta’s head because that grin can _never_ mean anything good.

 

“You are _so_ going to get laid.”

 

 

Yuta is never going to a party again.

 

That is what he decides the moment he steps into the frat house where the party is being hosted.

 

He gulps when he takes in the sight from where he’s standing at the door–the hallway stretching out in front of him which he assumes opens onto the makeshift dancefloor hosts two horny couples, or fuckbuddies, or _whatever_ they are, and while one of them is absolutely determined on eating each other’s faces off, the other seems to have crossed that stage already, for they seem to be absorbed in the task of undressing each other at record speed.  

 

If Yuta thinks that the scene on the porch was bad, this is on another level entirely.

 

Before he manages to throw up his lunch from the sight alone, Ten pulls him along and in no time, they’re out of the stuffy hallway–leaving the four in there to their business–and on the dancefloor, just as Yuta had predicted.  

 

Yuta has never been to a party before–a _real_ party, as Ten puts it–but it is _exactly_ what he had imagined it to be like.

 

Almost everyone on the dancefloor is dressed in outfits (if you could call them that) that are far too inappropriate for the weather outside and Yuta almost turns back to fetch as many sweaters as he can for the poor souls when he notices that some of them are actually _sweating_ (mind you, it’s a good negative something degrees outside). He does not ponder on the fact much longer, however, since he deduces that that is bound to happen if they keep grinding against each other like that, and also because Ten starts walking–probably in pursuit of the kitchen–and Yuta is left with no choice but to trail after him like some sort of lost puppy.

 

It does not take them long to find the kitchen; the small crowd forming randomly to the side of the sweaty bodies can only mean one thing.

 

“Sweet!” Ten rejoices, tugging Yuta along as he weaves his way through the small crowd and when they emerge from it, Yuta finds that the kitchen is much more pleasant than the dancefloor because:

 

(a) there are fewer people, and

(b) the people here still seem to have some of their brain cells working since most of them–except for the kid crying in the corner–are either conversing civilly or minding their own business while they sip from those stereotypical red cups that Yuta didn’t actually think were a thing.

 

Ten makes a beeline for the counter with the drinks on it, calling out loudly to the tall, raven-haired boy who seems to be in charge of bartending at the moment. The boy looks up and a half-smile takes to his lips when he spots the Thai.

 

“Well, well, look who we have here,” he grins, thumping Ten on the back when he is within his reach. “I honestly thought you weren’t going to make it.”

 

“Ever heard of being fashionably late, Seo?” Ten jokes, pushing at his shoulder playfully. Yuta watches this little back-and-forth of theirs in awe. Trust Ten to have found friends and become this close to them after having been here a week.

 

The boy hums a non-committal hum in response when he finally catches sight of Yuta and looks him up and down, gaze curious. Yuta tries his best not to squirm in discomfort from being subjected to this close scrutiny, but he chooses not to vocalise his thoughts.

 

“Who’s this?” the raven-haired inquires at long last, and though the question is directed towards Ten, his gaze remains focused on Yuta.

 

Ten turns to him as well and Yuta catches the slight surprise that flashes briefly in his eyes, as if remembering that he had brought Yuta along, and he would have laughed had it not been for another presence.

 

Ten walks over to him and slings an arm around his shoulder, resting his head against Yuta’s; Yuta rolls his eyes at his friend’s natural clinginess but waits for him to get the pleasantries over with.

 

“This, Johnny Seo, is the love of my life.”

 

Okay, he was _not_ expecting that. And by the looks of it, neither was this ‘Johnny Seo,’ because he looks quite scandalised for a good moment before Ten bursts out laughing, much to Yuta’s annoyance and the boy’s relief.

 

“Don’t pull stunts like that,” he mumbles, placing a hand on his heart and making a show of breathing heavily.

 

Ten chuckles, and for another fleeting moment, Yuta feels as if he’s invisible, when Ten pats him on the shoulder, tightening his grip around him. “But seriously,” he says, “Johnny, this is Nakamoto Yuta, my best friend since diapers and the only sane person in my life–” Yuta offers a timid wave of the hand, “–and Yuta, this Seo Youngho–no one calls him that, don’t worry, Johnny’s fine–a dumbass I hang out with for some reason.”

 

“You love this dumbass,” Johnny chirps sweetly, making exaggerated kissy faces at Ten who looks at him with a disgruntled expression as he moves away from Yuta and towards the counter.

 

“I do _not,_ thank you very much,” he grouches, hiking himself up to sit on a free space on the counter. Yuta doesn’t understand why–there are around six or seven perfectly functional bar stools all around the island, but Ten isn’t Ten if he doesn’t do something stupid every two seconds, so he dismisses the thought and opts to take a seat instead. Johnny stands on the other side, his hands moving deftly around as he prepares a drink as if he has done this a hundred times before.

 

Yuta watches in awe as he sticks one of those fancy umbrellas–the ones you see in the movies–into the drink as a finishing touch and hands it to Ten, who accepts it gratefully with a mumble of _this better be strong,_ before taking a long swig.

 

Johnny stares at him expectantly, and when Ten lets out a long _ahhh_ of satisfaction, he smirks victoriously before grabbing another cup and starting on another drink.

 

It is only then that he acknowledges Yuta’s presence properly for the first time, for he suddenly looks up, his gaze zeroing in on his face while his hands still fly around as if they have a mind of their own.

 

“Oh _wow,_ ” he says all of a sudden, his hands slowing down momentarily. “ _Wow,_ you’re really pretty.”

 

Yuta colours slightly, and then a bit more when he hears Johnny whisper not-so-discreetly to Ten something along the lines of _why the hell did you never tell me that your best friend was this hot?_ Ten only hums, mumbling something that sounded quite a bit like _because he’s too good for you and your gorilla-looking ass._  

 

Yuta looks away from them in an effort to rid his cheeks of the heat that had invaded them. The boy–poor thing–was still crying, except this time, a concerned girl Yuta has seen once or twice between classes before hovers awkwardly above him, asking him if he was okay and reaching out a hand for him to take. Yuta does not see whether he accepts the hand or not because in the next moment, a cup is sliding across the table towards his side and when he looks up, he finds that Johnny is already looking at him expectantly.

 

“Come on,” he urges, “drink up.”

 

Yuta hesitates. “D–Does this have any alcohol?”

 

Johnny doesn’t reply to the question immediately. “Oh my _god,_ your voice is so cute what the fu–”

 

“John, you’re scaring him,” Ten butts in matter-of-factly, and it effectively halts Johnny’s rambling. He clears his throat in an effort to regain his composure, trying not to lose it at how adorably lost Yuta looks, and replies to his initial query, “Just a little bit, don’t worry. Never drank before?”

 

Yuta tilts his head, pondering over how to answer. “Ten had forcefully made me chug an entire beer on my eighteenth,” he says, cringing at the memory of the pounding headache he had woken up with the next morning (yes, he’s a lightweight, and _what about it_?), “but nothing after that.”

 

Johnny hums, patting Ten on the shoulder in appreciation. “This should be fine then. Go on then, take a sip.”  

 

Yuta looks down at the odd liquid swirling in the cup, and Johnny must have picked up on his apprehension since he laughs boisterously. “I didn’t poison it,” he clarifies with a half-smile. “You’re too cute to harm, anyway.”

 

Ten snorts then, and with a swift jump off the counter, he appears behind Yuta, slinging both his arms around his shoulders and pulling his head to rest on Ten’s chest; Yuta feels it rumble when he chuckles.

 

“Yuta Suitor Count: 1,” he laughs, and Yuta blushes a furious red. “Damn, hyung, not even fifteen minutes in and you’ve wooed someone over already?”

 

Yuta mutters a quiet _shut up_ under his breath, cheeks still an embarrassing red, and opts to take a tentative sip of the liquid in his cup–he still doesn’t know what to call it–to drown out the embarrassment.

 

He wishes he hadn’t.

 

“What in the actual _world_ is this?” he sputters, looking back and forth between the green liquid and Johnny’s mirthful expression, disgust written plainly on his face.

 

Johnny laughs heartily, and this time it does not sound as pleasant as it did the first few times, because _what is there to laugh about?_

 

Yuta, still infuriated, struggles to slip out of Ten’s now slack hold, almost tripping over himself in his haste to march round the island to where Johnny stands in all of his six foot glory. He comes to a stop right in front of him and glowers at the giant in an effort to come off as intimidating.

 

(It does not work. Yuta comes up to Johnny’s chest.)

 

“This–” he angrily brandishes the cup in front of Johnny’s face, “–tastes like _pee_.”

 

Ten laughs loudly from the other side of the counter.

 

Johnny smiles kindly at him, eyes twinkling with mirth. “It grows on you.”

 

 

And grow on him it does, because a half hour later Yuta is drunkenly recounting the story of the one time Ten had locked him into his cupboard when they were sixteen and forgotten about it afterwards, leading to a rather boring four hours of being trapped in a cupboard with smelly clothes as his only companions until Ten’s mother had found him there when she had come in in search of laundry.

 

“And how was I supposed to explain the situation to her? _Aunty, your son locked me in because I was being a little shit?_ ” Yuta laments with a number of expressive hand gestures.

 

Johnny tilts his head at him, equally drunk. “What _did_ you tell her then?”

 

Yuta’s head drops to the table with a defeated thump. “ _Aunty, your son locked me in because I was being a little shit.”_

 

Johnny promptly spits out the sip he had just taken and Yuta narrowly misses the repulsing spray of his special _Cocktail that Tastes Like Pee™_ mixed with saliva. Predictably, it lands on Ten’s sleeping form behind him.

 

Needless to say, Ten is not asleep anymore.

 

As Ten tries his best to claw Johnny’s eyes out for ruining his precious designer shirt, Yuta, in a sudden burst of bravery, slips discreetly out of his seat, out of the kitchen and into uncharted territory.

 

 _Oh,_ if only he _knew_ what the near future had in store for him.

 

 

Frat boy Jung Jaehyun looks sinfully hot in leather pants.

 

This is one of the many things Yuta has noticed in the ten minutes he has been staring at him.

 

Frat boy Jung Jaehyun is also infuriatingly good-looking, which, Yuta, on their first meeting, did not notice due to his being blinded by rage.

 

Jaehyun’s eyes are absolutely mesmerising–a soft honey brown that Yuta would love to drown in at any time. His nose is long and well-sculpted (well, his entire face is, but that’s not the point), and his lips look soft and _very_ inviting. He has soft brown hair that has been pushed back tonight, and a strand or two have come astray, falling into his eyes and Yuta’s body stirs from attraction from the sight alone and–

 

It totally, absolutely, one hundred percent is the alcohol’s fault. And well, maybe Johnny’s too, but the poor boy is probably being punished enough, Yuta figures. For a fleeting moment, Yuta considers going back to the kitchen just to check whether he was still in one piece after facing Ten’s wrath alone, but suddenly the captivating brown eyes he wants to lose himself in are focused on him and– _and why the hell is he coming here no no no no–_

 

“I’d sensed a pair of eyes on me all this while, and _gosh_ would I have looked sooner if I’d known that they were so pretty.”

 

Yuta huffs, feigning exasperation the best he can when in reality his heart feels like it’s going to burst through his chest. “Do you use that line on everyone you want to hook up with?”

 

Jaehyun tilts his head to the side in amusement; a carnal and almost predatory smirk takes to his lips as he scans Yuta from head to toe. His gaze finally meets Yuta’s–it is very similar to what Johnny had done less than an hour ago, but Yuta does not recall feeling this light-headed back then–and he winks, “Only the cute ones.”

 

Yuta hates himself for flushing deeply at that. But Yuta is not Yuta if he isn’t stubborn, and he refuses to give in without putting up a fight, so with a saccharine grin of his own, he coos, “Can you even see my eyes properly through my glasses, Jaehyun-ah?”

 

Jaehyun looks surprised for a moment. He blinks once. Twice. A third time. “They normally start taking their clothes off by this point.”

 

Yuta tries his best not to burst out laughing on hearing his answer. Instead, he innocently tilts his head to the side and smiles with deceptive kindness. “Is that so?” he asks interestedly.

 

Sober Yuta would have never _dreamed_ of doing something like this. Sober Yuta would have never found himself in this situation in the first place, and Sober Yuta would have stared at Drunk Yuta with a mix of disgust and awe for the confidence with which he carries himself now.

 

“And they generally stop talking, too, so I’m afraid I don’t quite know how to answer that either,” Jaehyun scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, and in his head, Sober Yuta is staring at him with his jaw reaching the floor because _I made a frat boy nervous what is this sorcery–_

 

“D–Do you–” Yuta’s eyes snap back to meet Jaehyun’s which immediately redirect their gaze to the floor, “Would you perhaps want to d–dance? With m–me?”

 

Yuta looks calm on the outside, he knows he does. On the inside, however, he is _freaking out_ because:

 

(a) he has never danced in his life before, and

(b) Jung Jaehyun, a frat boy who Yuta supposedly bears malice towards him is asking him for a dance which is inevitably going to lead to making out in the middle of the dance floor and oh _gosh,_ Yuta doesn’t even want to think of what could happen after that–

 

“Hello? Earth to pretty boy?”

 

Yuta snaps out of his daze and a small frown settles on his face, forming barely noticeable lines onto the sides of his mouth and on his forehead that Jaehyun wants to smooth out–

 

“You’re asking me for a dance and you don’t even know my name?” Yuta clucks his tongue in mock disapproval.

 

Jaehyun rushes to explain, “Y–You never told me! How was I supposed to know?”

 

Yuta basks in the feeling of having someone like Jaehyun wrapped around his finger, but he doesn’t let it show. “Well not everyone goes around bumping into people and saying things like, _‘Hey listen, I just bumped into you but I’m not going to help you pick up your books or anything, I’ll just tell you that my name is Nakamoto Yuta because you’re going to hear it around campus a lot’,_ ” he says, all in one breath, and Jaehyun stares at him as if he’d grown another head before his expression smoothly morphs into another full of confidence.

 

“What a pretty name,” he breathes, a hand coming up to cradle Yuta’s face, “for such a pretty face.”

 

“Do you not know _any_ other adjective besides ‘pretty’ to describe someone’s appearance?” Yuta asks, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

 

Jaehyun tracks the movement with his eyes, “Not just anyone’s appearance,” he smiles, and Yuta rolls his eyes, well aware of what is to come next, “only yours.”

 

“How many people have you slept with this week, Jaehyun-ah?” Yuta squints at the taller, folding his arms across his front defensively. Jaehyun withers under his intense gaze but holds his ground, “Zero,” he makes an ‘O’ with his fingers and holds it against an eye. He gazes at Yuta through the gap, an amused grin settling on his lips. “Would you, Nakamoto Yuta–” Yuta finds that he quite likes the way his name rolls off Jaehyun’s tongue, “–do the honours of stealing my week virginity?”

 

Yuta gulps, hoping that the choker Ten had made him wear last minute conceals the movement of his Adam’s Apple.

 

_That is only if you do the honours of stealing my actual virginity._

 

He masks his nervousness with an easy smile. “We’ll see about that. But first… I owe you a dance, yes?”

 

Jaehyun’s eyes quite literally light up at the acceptance of his request and he holds out a tentative hand for Yuta to take.

 

And when Yuta does, watching his hand almost disappear as it enveloped by Jaehyun’s, he wonders how he can _possibly_ find a way out of the mess he’s successfully managed to get himself into.

 

 

“I know you’re going to want to slap me, but you really are so pretty.”

 

Yuta hums, not pulling away from where his head rests on Jaehyun’s chest and Jaehyun bites his lip when he looks down at him. _“Really.”_

 

“Okay,” Yuta says simply, smiling secretively when he feels Jaehyun’s hands around his waist tighten slightly.

 

“Yuta.”

 

Yuta pulls back a little, looking up at Jaehyun with the corners of his lips quirking up in amusement. “Jaehyun.”

 

Jaehyun stares at him intensely, and really, they must look so out-of-place, slow dancing to an upbeat song in the midst of dozens of people who look like they’re having sex with their clothes on.

 

Yuta’s loose grip around Jaehyun’s neck tightens considerably when his face starts inching closer towards Yuta’s own and Yuta really wants to slap himself for being rendered so helpless by such a simple gesture. But Jaehyun doesn’t seem to plan on stopping any time soon; in a few seconds, Yuta can feel his breath on his lips, and they’re so, _so_ close and–

 

–And he can’t do this.

 

“Jaehyun,” he whispers softly, almost as if he is afraid of ruining the atmosphere around them.

 

He isn’t sure how in the world Jaehyun even managed to catch that over the music blaring from the speakers hooked up everywhere, but apparently he does, replying with an equally quiet hum.

 

Yuta closes his eyes briefly, and he hopes they look as convincing as he wishes for them to when he opens them. “You really have no semblance of patience, do you?”

 

Jaehyun scowls, angry lines marring the beauty of his otherwise perfect face. “Come _on,_ ” he groans impatiently, and Yuta shakes his head with a smile that has his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

 

“Ever heard of playing hard to get?” he laughs, thoroughly amused by Jaehyun’s disgruntled expression. “It’s in fashion nowadays, I hear.”

 

Jaehyun grunts. “Can’t say I quite appreciate this trend,” he rearranges his arms to settle more comfortably in the curves of Yuta’s waist, and Yuta, in turn, slackens his hold on Jaehyun’s neck and rests his head in the crook of his neck again.

 

“You’ll bring yourself to, don’t worry.”

 

The song playing from the speakers ends, and an actual slow song filters through them and fills the room instead. The people around them calm down slightly and their touches towards each other become soft; more loving.

 

Jaehyun looks down at Yuta–rather, Yuta’s hair–and a feeling he hasn’t experienced fills his chest at the sight of Yuta’s closed eyes and soft, serene smile. His eyelashes graze the flushed skin of his cheeks, something Jaehyun can notice in spite of his glasses from this distance. Yuta’s soft hair falls into his eyes and all in all, he looks absolutely adorable.

 

And suddenly getting into Yuta’s pants doesn’t seem as important as before.

 

_This works too._

 

 

 _Goddamnit,_ Yuta thinks, biting his lip when a searing pain lances up his backside, _is it supposed to hurt this much?_

 

He struggles to make out his surroundings in the limited amount of sunlight filtering in through the curtains. When his eyes adjust to the semi-darkness, however, Yuta notices two things:

 

(a) this isn’t his room, and

(b) there’s an arm splayed across his waist.

 

Yuta stares at the limb as if it had personally offended him. He does _not_ want to know who it belongs to. Nevertheless, his eyes travel the length of the bare arm slowly, up and across the expanse of smooth skin, past the two moles dotting the white of the left shoulder and–

 

–And frat boy (question mark) Jung Jaehyun is infuriatingly good-looking, even in the _morning_. But his heavenly looks do very little to calm Yuta’s jittery nerves, because the reality is just starting to set in; his hazy mind has just started processing what all of _this_ means.

 

Nakamoto Yuta is not a virgin anymore.

 

The realization seems like a punch to the gut, leaving Yuta feeling breathless and–

 

_Air, I need air._

 

Yuta carefully relocates Jaehyun’s arm so that it is resting next to him on his pillow, which ultimately leads to the discovery that Jaehyun is a heavy-sleeper, for he does not stir in the slightest at the movement, and Yuta stares at him for a good minute– _not because he’s hot, shut up, Ten–_ just to make sure that he is going to stay asleep.

 

He breathes a sigh of relief when Jaehyun does not move, and swings his legs over the bed and _motherfu–_

 

That hurt.

 

A _lot._

 

He should _not_ have done that.

 

Yuta hisses as quietly as he can, moving tentatively off the bed to start his search for his clothes in the dark. He finds his boxers first and slips into them at the speed of light to save himself the embarrassment of being fully nude while in the same room with someone who is practically a stranger, and–

 

–And maybe he should just shut up and find the rest of his clothes and _leave_. He could beat himself up over his terrible choices _later,_ when he actually has the time and the privilege of doing so.

 

Somewhere in the back of his head, Yuta thinks that Ten would be proud when he buttons up the leather pants after having successfully pulled them on with minimal movement lest his bottom makes him want to scream bloody murder.

 

The room is a little brighter by the time Yuta pulls his shirt over his head and manages to find the choker he had worn last night. His butt already hurts like a bitch; he doesn’t think he can deal with an angry Ten and his expert techniques of torture in the state he’s in.

 

“Hnng…”

 

Yuta’s head snaps to the source of the sound, and there it is, the culmination of his most recent nightmare coming true:

 

Jaehyun was waking up.

 

Yuta observes him–quite frozen in his spot–as he shifts around in bed and stretches with a fuzzy yawn. He feels around the other side of the bed with his eyes still screwed firmly shut, and his nose scrunches up, expression taking on a slightly disconcerted edge when he processes that it it void of its previous occupant and _shit shit shit he’s opening his eyes, shit–_

 

And at that moment, Yuta does the one thing that he always does when it comes to solving a problem.

 

He runs away.

 

 

“My life is so messed up.”

 

“Tragic.”

 

“I am such a pathetic excuse of a human being.”

 

“Truly devastating.”

 

“I lost my virginity to a guy who hates me.”

 

Ten sips from his overly-sweet latte, and it is _infuriating_ how unperturbed he is by it all. “So?”

 

“So?! What do you mean _‘so?’_ ” Yuta shrieks, ignoring the annoyed looks from the other customers being thrown their way. “It’s my first week of university–I shouldn’t have someone who hates me in the first place and I certainly shouldn’t have presented my virginity to him on a silver platter like I did–you honestly don’t see how that’s really messed up?”

 

Ten shrugs. “There’s a first for everything.” He leans forward on his elbows then, suddenly very invested in the matter. “Now for the important questions. Did he eat you out?”  

 

_“Ten!”_

 

“Alright, alright,” Ten grins in a lame effort at placating him. He leans back in his seat, crossing his arms across his chest and regards Yuta with inquisitive eyes. “Well then?” he says, an eyebrow raised. “What’s the problem?” Yuta gapes at him in disbelief, running a frustrated hand through his perpetually messy hair and messing it up further. “I _just_ told you! Ten, I _lost my virginity_ to a guy who _hates_ me.”

 

Ten scoffs at him, surprising Yuta with the coldness of the sudden gesture and he blinks at him questioningly. “Didn’t really look like he hated you from the way you two were acting all night. Hatred isn’t quite the word I’d use to describe the way he looked at you. I may have been drunk but I’m not stupid. That man looked at you like he wanted to be the father of your children.”

 

Yuta regards him with wide eyes and an open mouth, and Ten shakes his head at him. “You are _so_ dumb at times.” Yuta glares at him in response but dismisses any idea of retaliating, because he has far too much on his plate already.

 

Jaehyun _doesn’t_ hate him? Sure, maybe he wasn’t as mean last night as he was on their first meeting, but Yuta had chalked it up to kindness fuelled by his desire to get into Yuta’s pants, nothing more, nothing less. And Yuta had fallen for his charms like everyone else on campus, probably. _So much for being different._ And what is to guarantee that Jaehyun wouldn’t treat him like a complete stranger when they cross paths next? What if he does a total 180° and acts like he had on their first meeting? What if he doesn’t even spare the time to do that? What if–

 

“I can look at you and tell that you’re overthinking,” Yuta snaps out of his rather negative thoughts when he hears Ten’s voice and looks at him to be met with the most deadpan expression he has seen in his life. He smiles at his best friend sheepishly, twiddling his thumbs in nervousness and Ten sighs. “Talk to him, why don’t you? That’s the only way you can find out what he feels about you. If he doesn’t regret it, then you can walk off into the sunset while holding hands and a few years down the line, you get married and create mini Jaehyuns and Yutas–”

 

“Ten, we’re both men.”

 

“–Adopt mini Jaehyuns and Yutas and love each other _till death do us part_ , you know? And if he does regret it… then you can slap him across the face. Sound good?”

 

Yuta slumps in his seat tiredly, exhausted by the conversation and life in general. His backside still hurts considerably, but less than it did in the morning and he winces at the pain the movement causes. He forgets about it once in a while, but then it hits him full force, reminding him of the terrible decisions Drunk Yuta had made last night and–

 

“Stop beating yourself up over it, Yuta,” Ten’s voice sounds far more firm than it has all morning, and while it does reassure Yuta slightly, he still finds himself unable to rid his head of the gloomy thoughts filling it. Ten goes on, now back to his usual cheery self, “Look on the bright side! Now you have a story to tell apart from _I Made Out with My Best Friend in the Janitor’s Closest in the Ninth Grade,_ ” Yuta’s eyes go wide in embarrassment, and he looks absolutely _scandalised_ , “You could call it _Losing My Virginity to a Frat Boy: The Story of My First Real Party_ or maybe–ooh! How about _How I Got Laid in my First Week of Uni: I’m Just That Gorgeous B_ ****es.”  

 

“Did you just–”

 

“There are kids present,” Ten says solemnly and Yuta raises an eyebrow, casting a quick glance around the café. There’s a group of third-years from their university working on a project with their heads close together a few tables away, and a couple sitting at the far end of the vicinity by the window but he can see no one who can register even remotely as a kid.

 

“Where?”

 

Ten points to him and Yuta rolls his eyes, shoving at his shoulder across the table.

 

Ten’s expression of faux pain morphs into one of amusement then. “Right, you’re no kid anymore, are you?”

 

 _“Ten…”_ Yuta warns threateningly, and Ten raises both of his arms in front of him in surrender.

 

“ _Alright,_ I won’t tease anymore. But Yuta,” Ten reaches across the table to hold his hand, his tone soft, “talk to him, okay?”

 

Yuta sucks in a sharp breath. “I will.”

 

 

Except, he doesn’t.

 

It has been two days since the meeting with Ten, and in those two days, Yuta actively avoids initiating contact with the outside world, and on Monday morning, with absolutely no progress, Yuta trudges over to the Psychology building dejectedly, thinking about how he had met Jaehyun on this day, around this time, exactly a week ago. He wonders, as he slips into a seat near the back, if he’d rather it stayed that way–with Jaehyun harbouring no particular feeling towards him except a twinge of dislike, and vice-versa. Maybe if he hadn’t gone to the party that night, maybe if he’d just have said no to Ten as he always does, they’d have never crossed paths again and have forgotten about each other. Maybe if he’d gone to the party but stayed in the kitchen to see what was left of Johnny after Ten was finished with him, he wouldn’t have found himself in this tricky situation and life would’ve gone on as usual.

 

But then he remembers how gentle Jaehyun had been with him throughout the night; how he had handled Yuta as if he was something fragile, almost as if he had _known_ that he had never done this before; how he had peppered him with comforting kisses and had let him dictate the pace just so that he wouldn’t get hurt; how Yuta had been worshipped so intimately–the memories alone turn the tips of his ears a bright red.

 

“Mr. Nakamoto, are you listening to me?”

 

Yuta’s head snaps towards the source of the call, and he looks up meekly at the professor, registering his frown and furrowed brows. He gulps, casting his eyes to the floor and mumbling a quiet, “I’m sorry, sir.”

 

“Please be more attentive for the rest of the class,” Yuta watches his retreating back, sighing in internal relief when he picks up the topic of discussion again and unaware of the pair of eyes gazing at him curiously.

 

 

“So!” Yuta jumps when a pile of books is dropped onto the table in front of him; the loud _thud_ it makes attracts a few annoyed glares from the students nearby and he glances at them apologetically. Johnny, however, does not seem to take any notice of this, and slips into the seat opposite to Yuta’s and smiles brightly at him.

 

Yuta glances at him warily but offers a cordial _hello_ nonetheless.

 

Johnny’s smile widens–if that’s even possible–and waves a hand around enthusiastically. “So,” he repeats, leaning forward slightly, the loudness of his voice knocked down a few pegs as if he suddenly remembered that they were in a library. “I’ve been staring at you throughout class–no wait, that sounds weird–I’ve been _observing_ you throughout class and you look a tad bit _distracted._ Bee in your bonnet, Yuta?”

 

Yuta contemplates on how to answer. “Not really?” he replies unsurely, shrinking in his seat a little at the raised eyebrow he is met with. “It’s complicated,” he adds helpfully. Johnny tilts his head wordlessly, as if saying, _Elaborate?_ but Yuta doesn’t know how to. So he starts off with a simple, “You know a Jung Jaehyun?”

 

Much to Yuta’s surprise, Johnny snorts. “ _Do I know a Jung Jaehyun?_ ” he repeats, and Yuta looks at him in confusion. “I only wish I didn’t.” It is now Yuta’s turn to regard Johnny with a raised eyebrow, since Johnny laughs, saying, “The guy’s my roommate. I’ve known him since we were kids.”

 

Yuta stares at him in absolute disbelief, and maybe he had been looking too long, because Johnny shifts in his seat, laughing a nervous laugh. “You’re looking at me like I stole your cat. Is something wrong?”

 

So Yuta tells him exactly what is wrong.

 

He recounts the tale of how he _lost his virginity to a frat boy_ (he doesn’t refer to Jaehyun as a frat boy at any point in the story lest he offends Johnny, though), as Ten puts it, and Johnny does not interject even once. It stresses Yuta out as much as it placates him because he’s glad that he was able to get it off his chest in one go, but at the same time, he has no way of knowing what’s going on in Johnny’s head right now. His gaze when he looks at Yuta is calculating and his lips are pursed in thought, but he doesn’t say anything for a good while after Yuta finishes.

 

“Yuta,” he says at long last, and Yuta is surprised by the softness of his voice and the tenderness in his eyes, “do you know how many people Jaehyun has slept with in his life?”

 

Yuta looks at him, confused, but shakes his head. Johnny smiles, “Three. Jung Jaehyun has slept with three people in his entire life. Including you.”

 

Yuta’s mouth falls open in shock. _It can’t be–_

 

“How true do you think rumours are, Yuta?” he questions, and to anyone else, it would sound mocking but it hits Yuta like a punch in the gut. “Misconceptions are evil, you know. I know you’ve heard this some million times before, but you _really_ shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Just because someone wears tight clothes and is confident in themself doesn’t make them a whore now, does it?”

 

Yuta winces at the brutality of the truth that had been spit so harshly to his face. He had been so hung up on labelling Jaehyun as a _frat boy_ that he hadn’t even stopped once to think whether he actually was one.

 

_“How many people have you slept with this week, Jaehyun-ah?” Yuta squints at the taller, folding his arms across his front defensively. Jaehyun withers under his intense gaze but holds his ground, “Zero,” he makes an ‘O’ with his fingers and holds it against an eye. He gazes at Yuta through the gap, an amused grin settling on his lips. “Would you, Nakamoto Yuta–” Yuta finds that he quite likes the way his name rolls off Jaehyun’s tongue, “–do the honours of stealing my week virginity?”_

 

Yuta frowns at the memory, the puzzle pieces in his mind not quite fitting. Johnny as if having read his mind, goes on, “He isn’t dumb; he knows what people think of him. He’s been looked at in that light ever since high school. You can’t blame him for being tired of explaining himself over and over, can you? Sometimes you start becoming the person people think you are.”

 

“That’s why–”

 

“–he was rude to you the first time you met, yeah,” Johnny completes for him, a small smile tinged with sadness settling on his face. “He’s been talking about you all weekend, you know? Beating himself up over being such a jerk and looking around campus for you over and over because he _just wants to see you_?”

 

Yuta is rendered speechless once again. How could he have been so _stupid_? He remembers telling Ten not to jump to conclusions so many times, to try and understand a person’s behaviour by putting yourself in their shoes and looking at things in their perspective, yet here was, forgoing everything he has stood for for so long and being as hypocritical as one could get.

 

“I think–” he looks at Johnny, and he is aware of how sad and helpless he must look, because the other’s eyes soften considerably, “–that you two need to talk.”

 

Yuta sighs, his head hanging low. After wallowing in despair for a good five minutes, he looks up at Johnny and nods the faintest of nods.

 

There was no getting out of this now.

 

 

Jaehyun grunts from where he is sprawled out on the couch when the doorbell rings loudly. He doesn’t remember inviting anyone to his pity party.

 

As he pushes himself off the couch with much difficulty, he wonders when the universe will stop siding against him. His entire life has practically been moulded by what others thought of him and somewhere along the way, he found himself conforming to their views. Preschool saw him as the precious little boy who looked at everything with wide, wonder-filled eyes. Elementary thought of him as the shy, quiet and soft-spoken kid who almost always kept to himself. Middle school saw him as the annoying, bratty little boy who proved to be nothing but a nuisance, what with all his pranks and tricks. High school saw him as if he the typical playboy, and now university seems to think the same.

 

At least, Yuta does.

 

_Yuta…_

 

Yuta had fascinated him beyond measure. He had left Jaehyun breathless in a way no other had been able to, but as usual Jaehyun’s way of carrying himself had been misunderstood as arrogance and haughtiness. True, Jaehyun hadn’t been the nicest to him the first time, but surely he had proved that that wasn’t who he truly was on many occasions throughout their night together? Surely Yuta’s views of him had changed? Surely, Yuta–

 

–Surely Yuta wasn’t standing in front of him right now?

 

“Hi,” Yuta smiles a little breathlessly, and Jaehyun can only gape at him in response. Yuta’s messy hair is swept to the side, his cheeks flushed, glasses askew on his nose and his lips, chapped from the cold, are parted slightly, and Jaehyun feels as if the breath has been knocked out of him because _wow,_ Yuta is absolutely _gorgeous._

 

He cocks his head to the side and smiles again, this time a little shyly. “I was wondering if we could talk?”

 

 

“ _Goddamn_ Nakamoto, it’s been months and I still haven’t gotten over how much of an entire freaking snack your boy is.”

 

Yuta rolls his eyes at Ten’s shamelessness, but does not spare him any of his time. “Would you mind–oh, I don’t know– _not_ ogling my boyfriend, please?” he says without looking away from his book. As an afterthought, he adds helpfully, “Go suck Johnny off or something.”

 

From somewhere off to his right, he hears over-exaggerated choking sounds, followed by a _I’m right here, you nasty bitch!_

 

“Yeah, on second thought,” Yuta says, looking up just in time to catch the scandalised expression on Johnny’s face, “go do it in the bathroom or something, please.”

 

Ten gives his shoulder a rough shove and Yuta winces at the fleeting pain, retaliating with a push of his own. “Leave me alone, you big bully,” he grumbles.

 

“You called?” a new voice says from behind him and Yuta jumps at how close it sounds; he can feel the person’s breath condensing on his ear and it sends a shiver down Yuta’s spine.

 

“Jaehyun,” he breathes, turning around with a hand on his heart only to be met with a dazzling, dimpled smile. “Don’t scare me like that.”

 

“You look cute when you’re startled,” Jaehyun smiles teasingly and Yuta mumbles a heated _“I do not!”_ in protest. “Yes you do,” Jaehyun coos, pinching Yuta’s cheeks much to his displeasure. Somewhere in the background, Yuta hears Ten mutter an annoyed _“get a goddamn room,”_ but then Jaehyun is talking again, just as high-pitched as before, “you’re just like a little baby, you know?”

 

Yuta groans. “I’m breaking up with you,” he says, in as serious a tone as he can muster. Johnny snorts at the back, and Ten snickers as well.

 

Jaehyun hums in acknowledgement, wrapping his arms around Yuta loosely. “Shame,” he laments solemnly, “I would have liked for you to ride me once before we broke up.”

 

 _“Jaehyun!”_ Yuta gasps, looking absolutely mortified as he shoves Jaehyun off of him. Ten and Johnny are rolling around on the grass unabashedly, laughing hysterically and all the noise is starting to give Yuta a headache. Jaehyun lets a giggle of his own slip past his lips, and then a few more, and soon, he’s laughing heartily and Yuta is left to wonder why he even sticks around these losers.

 

“You know you want it too,” Jaehyun grins cheekily, and Yuta glares at him. “I do _not,_ _thank you very much_ ,” he gripes moodily, sending Jaehyun into another fit of laughter.

 

But when Yuta looks at Jaehyun’s face, his bright smile carving dimples into his cheeks and making his eyes crinkle up at the corners, he can’t help but think that he is the luckiest boy on the planet, because:

 

(a) Jung Jaehyun is a fool, and

(b) Yuta might just be the tiniest bit in love with him.

**Author's Note:**

> don’t even ask
> 
> edit: this has so many mistakes fbsjrkwlfn i don’t know how to spell forgive me
> 
> edit #2: i’ve been wanting to do this for a while ksjskskksk but here’s [my twitter](https://twitter.com/nayutalented?s=09) if you want to scream about,, whatever you want to scream about,,
> 
> edit #3: the link to my twitter doesn’t work does it
> 
> edit #4: after numerous efforts, i am proud to say that the link now works!! come talk to me or yell at me or whatever and let’s be friends bc i’m lonely and i want friends


End file.
